Thursday, May 30, 2013

Last week I said that I would be
releasing a print and pdf copy of my medieval fantasy battle rules,
By This Axe. And lo, thanks to the generous, talented aid of
Mike Davison (layout), Jez Gordon (cover work) and Richard G
(alternate “art noveau” cover coming out later), here they are.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

There are more to be added from.
Longtime readers will note the co-opting of contest entries—for the
greater good naturally. (Thanks Trey, Robert and Michael for this
round.)

Ir-Byit (Hex 13.13)

Invariably just called “the
Towers”--or more frequently the pedestrian “Town”--the large
plasti-steel walled urban core of 5000 sits packed into a compact
blue-hued square of pylon-like tower-houses and long, covered
arcades. Close to the walls are idyllic melancholic parklands
harboring the handful of ancient buildings still in use as lodges of
the Valley’s myriad secret societies. Great fields of rubble and
broken shells of buildings mark the former extent of the ancient
city.

The Fecund Pit of the Lurid Tolahks
(Hex 07.14)

This dread cave-pocketed hole is a short
if steep two-mile hike down the exterior ridgeline from the
Marchwarden outpost of Watchfort Baker. The troglodytic Tolahks were
greatly feared a generation ago when their raids ravaged the western
villages of the Valley. That the Tolahks would return the gnawed
skulls of villagers in the dead of night back to the Watchfort only
increased the mounting terror. When bloodnettle flaggelants
threatened to trek their grisly gods-fear and sweaty, stained backs
into Ir-Byit proper the Marcherlord took the unprecedented action of
going on the offensive. Since that terrible pyrrhic victory only a
few long melancholy howls have been heard from the Pit since.

The marchwardens still talk of those
the chilling dark of the dark outer pit-caves and the short battle
glimpses of the gleaming white vaults beyond—and the hidden wealth
undoubtedly stashed within those ancient confines.

Glories Past

Shining Ysbhalla, Hex 07.15
From
the Scroll of Eytre the Mindhealer:
“What child of the Valley
doesn’t know the story of Shining Ysbhalla, fallen ancient capital
of Man? It’s spires can still be seem—as can the shadow that
crouches among them like a toad in weeds. This is the god or
demon-thing called the Thinker, and Ysbhalla belongs to it and its
only worshippers, the Soft Ones. Who hasn’t wondered at the giant
and macrocephalic shape that crawls through Ysbhalla? Who didn’t
tremble in their youth at the hearth-tales of the elders of once-men,
flabby, pale, and elastic as a slug or river mussel, who crawl
through Ysbhalla’s streets gurgling obscenities and consumed with
lust for women who may still stand upright?”

The Obelisk of the Electric Brain,
Hex ???

A fragment from Godspawn by Pakah the
Yellow:
“Of the many disciplines mastered by the Electric Brain,
perhaps the most horrifying was the secrets to life itself. In the
great nutrient vats beneath the Temple of Human Achievement, the
Brain has tinkered over centuries to create new forms of life, vile
combinations of man, machine, and animal. Pushing the outer limits of
science and human imagination, these obscene monstrosities were
created for the purposes of sexual satiation, torture, and other
diversions best left unnamed. In the vast breeding pits and
menageries entire generations of unthinkable beasts, many of whom
were sentient, lived in died in squalor.

Yet, those unnameable
horrors desired for freedom, as all men inevitably do. Many of their
revolts were quashed by the Electric Brain and its servitors, but a
fair number succeeded as well. Passing through the complex
underground mazes that permeated the ground beneath the city-state,
tribes of beasts not born from natural evolution slipped into the
wild lands outside of the Valley of Endless Luxury.”

The Pyramid of the God-King Syrinx,
Hex ???

Doom-Ballad of Moes the Many-Voiced:

“The Old Ones prophecied, and lo it
was so! It was Midsummer's Eve in the year of the Unending Worm, and
the Seven Eyes of Thon the Beholder stood high in the sky, directly
over the capstone of The Pyramid of the God-King Syrinx. Day and
night became one.”

Sunday, May 26, 2013

I've been dragging ass a bit design
inspiration-wise with the eponymous campaign of this here blog. One
of the better burnout cures I have found is to throw some energy into
an intentionally limited and decidedly different toned game. The
Space Cantons and Wilderness crawl mini-campaigns, the TSR
Conan and Boot Hill one-shots all were enjoyable diversions and I
came out refocused on the center-stage efforts.This time around I stepped backed and
tried reviving a campaign seed idea that spawned one of the most
feverishly imaginative contests I have had the pleasure of sponsoring
here: the Point of Light/Last Bastion of Man. As my fair city was
flooding yesterday, I drew up some notes for an AD&D/Mutant
Future mash-up flavored/inspired by dollops of The Night Land,
Moebius's Arzach (and Dune drawings), Blood Meridian,
Kung Fu 2100, and the three love-children worlds of friends
(that I have so greatly admired): Oriax, Uz and Krul.PremiseWho remembers what brought our ruin in
the end​? The troubles and tribulations, cataclysms and crises fell
so thick in number those many centuries ago that forgetting and
hiding became one of the higher arts of survival. What remains of
human civilization is clustered in a high, narrow mountain basin
roughly 90 square miles in area, a high, lost enclave harboring
15,000 souls.About a third live in the ruins of
a former great city. Life there, though a shadow of what came before,
is highly refined with a tendency to rumination on the abstract and
cerebral doctrines—and sensuous vices of the flesh. The rest of the
valley is more rough and tumble, there the population holds on in
semi-fortified villages dominated by wild religious rites.Centuries of inwardness, fear, and the
lasting effects of a great purge of remnant books and other
intellectual artifacts have limited the bastion’s knowledge of the
outside world to what can be surveyed from the surrounding peaks:
jagged foothills, vine-choked forests, giant fungus groves, ash
wastes, and the hints of a green-stoned cyclopean ruin that can only
be Shining Yashabbla, the Ancient Capital of Man. Beyond the horizon
lurks a vast wilderness haunted by bands of inhuman reaving bands and
the truly monstrous. Something has shifted in the valley in
the last decade, the rulers of the land have finally opened up that
last safety valve to keep their control of the last bastion:
permission to explore beyond the peaks. The insane, the maladjusted,
and restless dregs of the citizenry answer the call.

Chargen Steps1. Roll/Pick House
and Race2. Roll 4d6 drop the
lowest IN ORDER for attributes3. Pick Class. Take
maximum hit points.4. Roll 3d6 for your
“Social Rank”. This multiplied by 10 is your starting gold
(called Domars).5. Buy stuff.Starting HouseFrom the most indolent noble to the
basest toiler, all in the Valley claim descent from mythological
hero-ancestors. Over the centuries society has settled into a
number of broad clan-castes around such claims (which are themselves
sub-divided into internal prestige ranks).Roll d10 or Pick1
House of Drugan the Render of Bodies: Human +1 STR, +1 starting hp
and free melee weapon2
House of Kaimos the Starbird: Human +1 INT. Minor artifact of GM’s
choice.3
House of Cragon the Soul-Auger: Human +1 WIS. Speak with the Dead
once a month.4
House of Tathos the Deathstealer: Human +1 DEX. Reroll one roll once
a session.5
House of Reydan the Redhelm: Human +1 CON. +1 Social Rank and free
helmet.6
House of Guiking the Gilded: Human +1 CHA. +2 to Social Rank and
Dogman servant.7
House of Wozan the Clonemaster: Replicant see below8
House of Xhom the Contumelious : Dwarf see below9
House of Raztin the Ever-Faithful: Dogman see below10
Servants of the Steel Spire: Human Mutant see below

“Races”Humans“Pure” humans (all citizens carry
some trace mutation) can be of any class.MutantsRoll Class 1 positive mutation and one
Class 1 drawback mutation from the Mazes and Mutants chart. If
Dwarfism is rolled, the mutant is automatically treated as a Dwarf as
below. The drawback mutation is kept but a new positive mutation is
rolled. They are restricted to the martial roles of fighting man,
monk or ranger by their caste upbringing.Dwarfs-1 STR, +1 DEX or INT. Can be fighters
or specialists. Mechanically they enjoy the same advantages as the
B/X Halfling. As a tinkering caste they gain a +10% bonus when
learning or repairing artifacts.Replicants+1 to any 2 attributes, -2 CHAReplicants are easily recognized by the
limited clone archetype population, and considered by most to be
really creepy. Will often die inexplicably in five years. Cannot be a
magic user or white wizard.Dogmen+1 STR or DEX, -1 INTCan bite for 1d4 damage. Fighting man
or ranger only.

ClassesNo minimum attribute prereqs are
required.Fighting ManNo weapon, armor or artifact
restrictions. Hit Dice 1d10MonkNo armor but can use DEX bonus for AC,
Control of Self power as per Empire of the Petal Throne at 1st
level, +1 to hit with unarmed attacks. Cannot use projectile or
energy ranged weapon.Magic UserCan wear Fur armor and Otus helmet,
able to use blackpowder weapons otherwise normal weapon restrictions.
Spells require only mental concentration.White WizardCalled “Priest”, can wear Fur or
Leather, +5% to figuring out artifacts, can use any ranged weapon.RangerCalled “Marchwarden”, +1 to hit
with any ranged weapon, cannot wear Ceramic Plate.SpecialistCalled “Tinker”. As per
Lamentations, restricted to leather and under armor but can use
shield.WeaponsSwords and daggers cost three times as
much due to the metal shortage. All other weapons with a metal
component cost twice as much. Bone or stone can be substituted at
normal listed cost but are -1 damage.Firelance, one-shot gunpowder tube
attached to spear, 1d8 damage, 20’ range, 15 domarsBlackpowder charge, 5 domars per shotFlintlock, 1d10 damage with exploding
dice on a natural “10”. 3 rounds to reload. 80 domarsWar-Arquebus (flintlock carbine with
handaxe or short sword attached to stock) 100 domars

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Thanks to the generous helping layout
hand of Mike Davison, next week I will finally be releasing into the
wild By This Axe, my mercifully short and (hopefully) easily
digestible 12-page set of rules for running Medieval and Fantasy
battles on the tabletop and/or with pen and paper. Yay me.

Breaking with my traditional horror of things commercial I am a-fixing a price tag to both the PDF and the
print-on-demand booklet. Both will still be priced down in the budget
range ($2.50 for the PDF and $8 for the booklet) and 100-percent of
the proceeds will be shoehorned into a large donation to Autism
Speaks, so rest assured that your soul will be pure as you plot the
senseless slaughter of countless imagined hordes.

The quick and dirty on what you can
expect feature-wise packed into those 12 pages:

Miniature rules for small to mid-sized
battles.

Abstract battle system for running
battles of any size quickly with a range of tactical choice.

Simple, fun, big “bucket of dice”
old school minis combat feel.

Compatibility with any kind of basing,
no need to rebase.

Optional card-based command and control
rules.

Duelling mini-game to simulate the
stand-out fights of champions.

Abstract, fast sorcery and divine magic
system.

Conversion rules for old school
D&D-like rpgs. Your campaign's PCs and NPCs are easily slottable
into both the tabletop and abstract mass battle system.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

“Ole Wampus” Bartol, captain of the
Canton-flagged carrack _The Ocular Bat_, was overheard in a hu'uz
hallucinogenic stupor roaring—between exclamations of “everything
is so mauve”--about how a Storm-Child gale forced his ship
dangerously close to the Weird on the Feral Shore [the once-populated
coast between Kezmarok and the Hill Cantons cleanly wiped out of
existence by the Turko Fey]. Bracing for the curtain of electric
feeling of crossing over—and the near certainty of “monsters
a-wondering” that seem to pop from nowhere to the clack of cosmic
dice in that fell zone—they were shocked to feel only the gusting
salt-winds on their back. Running close to shore for several cantonal
leagues before tacking back to the deeper waters of the Persimmon
Sea, the ship nary encountered the Weird once the breath of that
little excursion. Though parlor regulars dismissed the story as “the
mollusk-buzz talking”, details, to this humble reporter, seemed
surprisingly consistent with his slightly less-inebriated crew.

Anxiety about the disturbingly activist
nature of the new Decade King has been ratcheted up a notch this
week's *monarchist riot along the gloriously-misnamed Scintillating
Avenue of Strident Strumpetry*. A peaceable gathering of *For the
Children*, a program beneficently sponsored and funded by the Palace
of Affairs Domestic to provide silk wimples and chitons to
disadvantaged children of gentility come down in the world, was set
upon by rough-handed men with quarterstaves shouting “blood for the
Decade King.” The mob then marched down the avenue seemingly at
random pulling squatters from the row-towers, shaving half their
heads, and painting dwarven penis runes on their bellies.

Our world is one of constant flux, but
one thing endures is the *Kiiros Regatta of Ma'arb*. Originating in
that Southlands nation's time as a Kezmaroki possession, the biennial
naval parade and race is just as reliably dominated by the
ever-impressive (and ever-financially ruinous) entry of Ma'arb's
preeminent figure, the Despot. The diamond flash of gilded mirrors,
blood-curdling war-yells of amazon maidens, and ear-shattering
petard-explosions of his “thunder-dromon” of two years back, a
sight that many observers could not be exceeded, was in fact topped
by the great golden domed, onion-towered pleasure barge that came
gliding into the harbor this year. A stream of superlative statements
has issued from jealous fixtures of Kezmaroki great-hostel parlors
ever since.

Speaking of hostel parlor talk, rumors
have been spreading of a “celestial play” to be presented in the
underground quarters of esteemed autarch *Drasko the Debauched*. Of
course only a high select audience will be on hand to witness such an
undoubtedly magnificent display of theatrical delight.

Grooms at The Fesian's Stables
(where business has been hopping in recent weeks due to the influx of
kozak mercenaries as of late) are spreading a tale of a great rending
sound and sudden appearance of a dust cloud from just beyond the new
retaining wall on the southeast side of Farwest yesterday. “There
was nothing particularly satirical or obscurely colorful about it,”
stated one of the dung-smelling witnesses to the incident.”

The wild rumor that spread last night
like a sub-world sirocco through the bonders of the Little Cantons
has been confirmed by officials at the municipal palace this
morning—for the first time in five centuries *the Turko Fey
have inexplicably moved away from the outer walls of Kezmarok*.
Half-ogres and human slaves were seen striking the great silk
pavilions of the besiegers and hastily moving said tents a half-mile
back to a new position around the ridgeline of the Vovoli Gardens. A
thin grey line of distant figures there—that many from the walls
believe to the be the Turko-Fey themselves—was observed watching
the proceedings from that height. The news has been greeted with wild
enthusiasm from the northron mercenaries and a jaded shrug by native
Kezmarokis.

The small crowd that gathered to hear
the Decade King's bizarre attempt at oratory last
week were disappointed (perhaps relieved) that the speech was drowned
in a suddenly frentic bit of building activity from work crews sent
by the Autarchs to renovate the crumbling palace exterior. What's
more the intricate webbing of the new scaffolding encasing the
building ensured that only the forehead and ornamental morion of the
monarch was seen by the crowds below.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

One of the (many) long-dropped,
game-play features from D&D's halcyon early days that has long intrigued me is that of allowing players to take on “NPC”
adversary roles to the main adventuring party. Since reading several
years ago the amusing back story of Sir Fang, the player-run vampire
in Arneson's Blackmoor famous for being the reputed origin of the
cleric class in the game, I have always been interested in exploring
that bit of outsourced intra-player competition.

Because, see, after running the Hill
Cantons for four years with two groups of rather clever and canny
veteran players, I've started to feel that the machinations I throw
at them have started to feel a bit predictable. (Though the campaign
is still mostly locale-exploration in orientation, a fair number of
“whirly bits” being moved by any number of NPC-led forces occur
on and off-stage at this point).

In plainer words, there are times that
I think they are on to my shit. Time to change up and throw (not to
abuse my portmanteaus too much) a slurve.

Cutting to the chase, I am looking to
recruit 1-5 “NPC” villains to help co-create some of those said
whirly-bits.

The particulars:

1. Ideally looking for someone who has
played in the HC but is not currently active—or at least fairly
familiar with my campaign posts.

2. I email you your “situation
report”: the broad brushstrokes of who you are playing, what your
resources are, where you are, how that might interact with the
players, etc.

If you are so-inclined are encouraged to co-create the
color and details of your bad apple, villainous lair and attendant
forces (of course, with my potential, gentle modification to fit
campaign tone and balance).

3. You relate to me what your nefarious plans through
some very limited Play by Post (I have limited patience/will for this
kind of thing so emphasis on “limited) and/or fairly infrequent
Google Plus Hangouts. When this intersects with what the campaign
players are doing I will reportback to you on what you perceive of
the situation.

4. Note importantly that, the point
is not to smash the players per se, but to create some interesting,
wild-card challenges for the party. It basically has to be broadly fair and contributing to the overall enjoyment of the campaign.

Is your soul benighted and wicked
enough for this experiment? If so, drop me a line here or on Google
Plus and I will send you details.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Our new Decade-King continues to
stubbornly stay on the lips of Kezmarokis. Seeking to overturn five
centuries of cherished tradition of not having to see or hear from
the monarch more than the usual “touch the jewels and wave”
appearances of the great festivals, the ceremonial monarch announced
to great shock that he would deliver a “rousing bit of oratory”
from the organic-machine-themed Yakquirby Balcony on Sunlorday.

In other news, noting the considerable
erosion and water damage to the external walls of the palace, the
Autarchs have (finally after decades) released funding for
much needed structural work on the teetering pile. A massive cocoon
of scaffolding went up around the exterior immediately, much to the
praise of local citizenry.

The Amazons are celebrating again
their biennial Ebon Festival of the Pearls on their distant isle
near the resting point of the Sun Lord's daily ride. The festival
marks both the climax of the black pearl harvest from the
swamp-polyps and the victory of that muscle-bounded race of maidens
against the invading forces of the Overkingdom in the Twicefold Battle of Vague
Suggestiveness now some 112 years ago. It is said that the high-point of the
festivities is the public bathing and drinking by their much-feared,
rubenesque queen of the blood of 12 male lovers.

And in the identified magic items
department...

The Four Brother-Blades of the
Evening Red

In the darkness that fell after the
last Latter-State Hyperboran necromancer-king was hung with the guts
of the last ur-bureaucrat--a time so dark that the chatiness and love
of written language so dear to our age was reduced to flashes of the
sordid art of epic poetry—four brother hero-champions of the Muhtl
people arose. These brothers, though noted for their bloodlust revels
and vicious scalping, were unswervingly loyal to each other and when
the vicious Muhtl were finally put down by the Kaftor matriarchs—and
their own deaths by castration at hand—through dark oaths had their
respective souls transferred in part to their beloved blades.

If all four blades are wielded in
battle by a single party, each sword becomes +2 to hit and damage. On
a natural 20, the blade lands a near scalping blow to a humanoid
causing an additional d6 bleeding damage. Striking the four blades
together while chanting “hrom, hrom, hrom” (the Muhtl word for
“thunder”) will produce Call Lightning once per day at the level
of the strongest wielder. All magical powers of the swords are only
functional when all four swords are in use.

Individually each blade exhibits a
bare, but strongly-willful sentience (INT 5, EGO 15). When touched
the sword emanates a tremendous—and malign—sense of potency, a
potential warning that the blades seek to turn the wielder into a
debased and violent existence of wanton evil. (When wielding the
sword, if erections last for four or more hours, call a cleric.)